


Scenarios, Exchanges

by irisbleufic



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-28
Updated: 2009-10-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> <i>Aziraphale has very soft manicured hands, and Crowley can do weird things with his tongue. So, I bet in sex they've specialised such that Crowley gives better oral sex while Aziraphale does it better by hand.  My prompt, therefore, is Aziraphale/Crowley giving Crowley/Aziraphale the opposite of what they're good at (Aziraphale going down on Crowley; Crowley using his hands on Aziraphale).</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenarios, Exchanges

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in October of 2009.

**1.**

Crowley has never found Aziraphale lacking in bed. No, far from it: Crowley knows for certain that could lie there naked merely listening to the sound of the angel's voice beside him, or above him, or directly in his ear, and he'd come apart sooner than later. Or, if not come apart, end up in a _frightful_ hurry to get on with things.

Also, Aziraphale is very good at, well, what he's doing _right now_.

If it had ever occurred to Crowley to dwell on sex at length before the whole, er, _thing_ that happened last year...happened, he wouldn't have guessed he'd have a particular preference for manual stimulation. Far from it. He'd hardly ever touched himself, let alone hazarded a guess at what someone _else_ touching him would feel like.

At what _Aziraphale_ touching him would feel like. And the answer? Was _heaven_.

It's not so much the sum total of the experience as it is the scattered, intense stretches of particular actions that Crowley knows will crop up later in his daydreaming. It's the way Aziraphale circles feather-light caresses just under the head of his cock with the sensitive pad of his thumb. Crowley blushes to think it even as he's writhing under the angel's undivided attention. It's also the way Aziraphale takes hold of his length: fingertips first, then a slow, sensuous slide into a full-handed gasp. And then he twists. And _squeezes_ , thumb still circling. Just enough. And says—

"So _close_ , my dear..."

And it's over, just like that. Yes. _Heaven_.

**2.**

One thing for certain: there's no _way_ —not in Heaven, in Hell, _or_ on Earth—that what Crowley is doing to him at this very moment could _possibly_ be wicked.

Or, if it _is_ wicked, then it's in the best sense of the word. Crowley doesn't beat around the bush, as they say—from day one, it was clear he liked _tasting things_. The side of Aziraphale's neck. His lower lip. The hollow under his tongue. The space behind his ear, the delicate ligature of lobe to the base of his skull. The crooks of his elbows, the pulse-points at his wrists. Aziraphale squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Crowley's only respnse is a low hiss of satisfaction as he moves lower—belly, thighs—and _lower_.

The first flick of his tongue is cool, too snake-like to be human and so beautifully _unfair_ , before it instantly transforms, mid-lick, into something velvety and hot. Substantial, more familiar. It's one of the few reminders Crowley will permit them: he is, after all, an angel with a difference. A gloriously _serpentine_ difference.

"Oh," Aziraphale breathes, threading his fingers through Crowley's tousled hair. " _There_. That's very good, _just_ —astonishing. I, ah, _think_ —"

"Ssso noted," Crowley manages, and a split second later, his mouth is full.

**3.**

"Ow!" Crowley yelped, instantly chagrined. "A _bit_ less with the teeth, maybe..."

Aziraphale nipped the inside of Crowley's other thigh more gently, apologetically. He licked the spot he'd bitten slightly too hard, and the sting faded instantly.

" _Ah_ ," Crowley sighed as the angel swallowed him whole. "Better."

This, at least, Aziraphale seemed to have got a good handle on. Given they both had a remarkable lack of a gag reflex—unless they had to be conscious of it in order to seem human, like with breathing—the situation lent well to rather... _thorough_ sucking off, there was really no other way of putting it. Crowley groaned and thrust up into Aziraphale's mouth, one hand twisted in the pillowcase and the other in the chaotic waves of Aziraphale's hair. He was _nearly_ —

" _Ack_!"

"Sorry! Oh, my dear, I'm _sorry_ —"

"What you were doing before," Crowley panted. "Do that."

"Mmm," murmured Aziraphale, and complied.

It would take them a little while, maybe, but they'd get there.

**4.**

Aziraphale couldn't concentrate enough to offer encouragement, let alone understand why Crowley seemed so anxious. The delicate grasp and slide of his fingers was—

"Is this all right? Aziraphale? Look, you've got to give me _some_ idea—"

Awkawardly, Aziraphale leaned up and caught his mouth in a crushing kiss.

Crowley rocked back with a dazed blink, his grip faltering a bit on account of the fact that his fingers had begun to tremble. Aziraphale covered Crowley's hand with his own and quickened the pace, watching Crowley's expression with delirious fascination. 

His eyes snapped shut and opened again with agonizing slowness, startling yellow gimlets hazy with desire and disbelief, as if snared in a waking dream. Did he not understand, did he _truly_ not? With a low hiss, Crowley redoubled his efforts.

"You are everything," Aziraphale whispered. "My world entire. _Everything_."

The rest spun out in a dizzying blur: the abrupt rocking-together of their bodies, unavoidable; the low growl in Crowley's throat as they kissed, inescapable; the soft prick of what might or might not have been fangs at Aziraphale's lower lip, ever changeable. And they were coming, they _were as one_. They were—

"Everything?" Crowley panted, peeling himself away, eyes fire-bright. "Angel—"

"Serpent," murmured Aziraphale, fondly. "Lie still with me a while."

And he did.


End file.
